of course you don't have a problem - Hunting Whales admittedly have gone out of fashion - but were bred for many generations for their ability to leap gracefully over obstructions. The name "Hunting Whale" is actually a misnomer - they were so-called by the similairity in function to "hunter" breeds of horses - but their primary use was in herding freshwater fur dolphins.

My mother, the sweetest and most...understanding...woman I have ever known (excluding my wife, in case she reads this). Raised four kids pretty much alone. "Your mother EARNED every one of her gray hairs," says Everyone Who Knew.

Culinary stuff. We had a grape arbor, so every year she's make jelly and grape juice. One year both somehow fermented. We used 'em anyway, but ho-boy! did those peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches cause comment at school!

My eyes bleed with teriaki sauce that ferments from my pancake soulsalty, so salty that I wince with pleasure at the drop of a soy bean.I ask the waiter in an Italian joint what he recommends and he said catch me at my break.I stood out in the rain to try and catch a drizzle of parmesan that was left on my cheek, but my tongue wasn't long enough.Recall is not my best attribute so I'll forget it and call it a tomorrow.

Oh, I'm dying to have some Indian (from India) food, but most of it is kind of difficult. I've found some recipes, though.

My mom and I have to laugh now. I don't know what it is--some kind of aphasia--but she reads a lot and can't pronounce words well. One time she talked about going to that tourist spot in Southern California, Venus Beach. (It's really venice.) She tends to say "prostrate" when she means "prostate". Well, now, she's learned to nudge me and say, "Is that right?" Used to be she'd get mad at me for correcting her. Isn't it interesting how relationships are? Oh, she still nags, but I don't let it get to me anymore. I either ignore it or tell her I've had enough ... very quietly and effectively, at least for awhile. :)

Well, they got in there a little bass-ackward, because the bean recipe didn't load as fast as the 6400 post, but 6400 has now been dispatched with proper Mudcat procedure. There was some content leading up to it.

Well, it doesn't necessarily make you a NoAccount, depending on the circumstances. Rather than risk sinking the MOAB under some heavy material at this juncture, maybe a quick funny story about each of our mothers would be a safe segue into green BS pastures.

My mother, for example, liked to cook, but as we got older and everyone was in a hurry, and as she was a working single mother, she didn't get much chance to try out new stuff. One time she decided it was time to try something new on the four of us, and picked up some recipes at the County Ag Extension Agent's office. Two were particularly memorable. Liver and Kidney Teriyake. Think about it. Diced brown gland meat in a brown sauce, the look and consistency of canned dog food. We renamed it Liver and Kidney Hare Kari, and she never made it again. Then there was the abomination of all desserts, a recipe came in an "enough to feed a small private army" quantity that it didn't occur to her to reduce. It was grape tapioca pudding. It seemed to bubble up in the pan to fill the entire kitchen before it was finished, and it looked like some demented wallpaper paste. I like my pudding simple and subtle, and I love vanilla, so this concord grape stuff was, well, almost indescribable, so I won't try.

To move to my generation of cooking, I think my "burned potatoes in the pressure cooker" will be one of those cooking diasters my kids will remember. Jeez, but do they smell bad! Too bad mom isn't around, or she'd have gotten a charge out of that story. (She came to the rescue for friends and family several times with her pressure cookery talents.)

Or is cooking a safe subject when discussing one's mother (or ex-mother of one's children)? What do you say, MOM (MOAB)?

According to basic physics, we cannot know both the momentum and position of an object with total acccuracy. This being mudcat, we can arbitrarly redefine h as we see fit, in this case to a much larger number.

Momentum: mass X velocity.

Mass: About Six thousand, Three hundred and can't remember posts.

Velocity: Nowhere fast.

These therefore confine the uncertainty in position to over 20, 000 km, which means MOAB can be at all points on earth at the same time, including with MMarios folks in the South Pacific.

I will leave it as an exercise to the reader to deteimine a consistent set of values for velocity, post mass, and Mudcat h...

Mother went away??? I didn't know. Did we have a party when Mom returned? Why wasn't I invited? I would have brought ice cream and cake and a present and everything. Well, phooey on all of YOU! I'll go to Shelley and be mean to the System Administrator, that's what I'll do, and I'll be mean to all sorts of people, like the director of the IFPL and other library directors and IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT because you had a "Welcome Back" party for Mother and didn't invite me and you're all a bunch of big mean POOPHEADS!!

I'm pleased to announce "DayThink" -- a new series of very brief (one-minute) MP3 audio features illuminating a wide range of relevant and important topics. Each day's feature will focus on one specific issue affecting our lives -- issues definitely worth thinking about. Many of these segments will deal directly with the impacts of technology on individuals and society.

DayThink features can be accessed via the DayThink main page at:

http://daythink.vortex.com

The debut segment is titled:

"The Mother is Back!"

and looks at the current round of telecom mergers and what they may mean for us all.

A notification mailing list has been established that will send out a brief message to subscribers as each new feature becomes available (never more than one per day), including the segment title, a brief description, and a link to the feature audio itself that can be played at one's leisure.

Subscriptions to that list can be established via:

http://lists.vortex.com/mailman/listinfo/daythink

or by simply sending a note (no subject or body necessary) to:

daythink-subscribe@vortex.com

I hope that these features will be of some value in helping folks wade through the maze of many important issues.

Layah, the problem that people experience with your name is called "entanglement" and GUBS says this:

The entanglement of formation is one of the standard measures of entanglement. It is defined, for any density operator \rho on a bipartite system, as

E F(\rho)= inf { \sumi ri S(\rhoi|A) \Big|\, \sumi ri \rhoi = \rho }, where S(.) denotes the von Neumann entropy and \rho|A denotes the restriction of a density operator \rho to the "Alice'' subsystem (partial trace over the other subsystem), the \rhoi are density operators and the ri are positive, adding up to one. Since S is concave, the infimum is attained at a convex decomposition of \rho into pure states, and the definition is often given as this restricted infimum.

Consider now a pair \rho(i), i=1,2 of bipartite density operators, and their tensor product \rho=\rho(1)\otimes\rho(2), which lives on a tensor product of four Hilbert spaces, but can be considered as a bipartite state when the two Alice subsepaces and the two Bob subspaces are grouped together. Then it is easy to show (by plugging the tensor product of the optimal decompositions of the factors into the variational expression and using the additivity of the entropy) that E F(\rho) <= E F(\rho(1)) + E F(\rho(2)).

I endure most verbing stoically, but there's one word that really gets under my skin. I'm referring to "gifting". Why did some damned fool thing it was necessary to make "gift" into a verb when there's already a perfectly good verb, "give", that means the same thing and does the job quite well? When a gift is gifted should we say we are happy to have receipted it?

Since the chocolate stains already exist in the shirt, could I preemptively bleach them to death before they have the chance to come into contact with mature chocolate? Does GUBS have anything to say about my name? If I threw some mature chocolate onto my pile of white shirts, would I then be able to raise chocolate bars? Sounds like a good way to make a living. Or at least to make me really fat.

Chocolate stains do not appear from chocolate. They already exist in the material in partial chocolateness, much like an ovum exists as half a critter of some sort. When you come into proximity with fully developed chocolate (post-puberty chocolate, so to speak) you bring the ovum into contact with a spermatoza and the result appears on your white shirt -- baby chocolate.

I have created a theory of spontaneous chocolate generation! Haven't you ever wondered where chocolate comes from (before it gets to the store I mean)? Well now I know. It comes from white shirts. If I wear a white shirt, it is bound to get a chocolate stain on it, regardless of if I ate or got within ten feet of any chocolate! I now realize that I can no longer in good conscience wash my white shirts. Think of all the baby chocolates I'm killing. I'm hoping that if I leave my white shirts in a heap, maybe add in some peanuts or something as incentive, maybe I'll come out with chocolate bars. Never again do I have to buy chocolate. I just need to buy more white shirts (I avoid them because they always get chocolate stains).

I have heard that there is a similar process that happens with spagetti sauce, but I have not personally experienced this. If my white shirts start producing chocolate flavored spagetti sauce, or spagetti flavored chocolate I might be a bit disapointed.

I also have a theory about my name. It is so incredibly cool, that people just can't stand to look at it, and that's why they invariably mispronounce it. Most often it comes out Laylah (which more than a few people in this forum have called me), which I blame on some song with that name in it. So I should no longer be upset that people constantly mispell and mispronounce my name, because it is just proof of it's absolute coolness. Bow down before my name.